


Voicemail Sent

by Frost_Exmachina



Series: We Don't Do Happy Endings Here [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Always up for critism, Amélie and Gérard are siblings in this one, Choking, Drinking, F/F, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lena "Tracer" Oxton Needs a Hug, Mentioned Gérard Lacroix, One electric guitar, Song: Lost On You (LP), Voicemail, What Was I Thinking?, but it's minor, i can't tag for crap, it might not make sense, no beta so yay, screw canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frost_Exmachina/pseuds/Frost_Exmachina
Summary: I had an idea and went with it.
Relationships: Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Series: We Don't Do Happy Endings Here [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165052
Kudos: 3





	Voicemail Sent

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea and went with it.

Voicemail sent at 21:27  
Heya, love, La Coïncidence kindly kicked me out after thirty minutes of bein’ alone. I should’ve probably texted you about the situation, but I didn’t wanna feel like I was botherin’ ya. For all I know, you could be in a meeting right now. It seemed like the smarter decision at the moment. I should make this voicemail short if that’s the case. I made curry in case you get home late again. You can probably smell the house fire already, but I promise I was careful. I’m sorry. I know it’s not your favorite meal, but it’s the only other thing I can make besides cereal, tea, and ramen. I don’t take many notes when I help you out. Heh, that’s why you mainly make dinner instead of me. Call me when you get off? I love you.  
End of voicemail

A thumb hovered between the delete and save. “Tch, how pathetic.”

Voicemail sent at 12:51  
Hey Amé, I’m a little worried right now. Uh, you haven’t returned my calls. It’s only been two calls and I’ve been starting to think that you’re angry with me? I hope not. You usually ignore me when you’re upset with me. But after nearly three days, I still haven’t figured out what I did wrong. I genuinely don’t know what I’ve done this time. I’m sorry if I left the seat up again. Can we talk about this? Take all the time you need to get back to me. I’m going to try Angela’s cell, or maybe you’re staying at Gérard's house this time? I’ll call both of them actually. Be safe. I love you.  
End of voicemail

“Oh, how naive you can be. Don’t you understand? Amélie is not coming back.”

She sat strapped still in the chair. Two voices were all she could hear. Her own thoughts and the voice of the doctor asking her questions based on her emotions, goals, and past. The voice message was kept as all the ones before it.

Voicemail sent at 22:01  
Where the hell are you? Seriously, love. If I accidentally left the seat up, I don’t think this is a reasonable way to react. Gérard told me you ignored him for some time from the same situation, but this is just absurd now. Angela told me to give you some time and I did, but it’s been about a week… Something as small as this shouldn’t really be made this big of a deal. Right? Please call me or something.  
End of voicemail

Voicemail sent 08:10  
Look, I know you’ve been home, Amélie. Your things in the bathroom have been moved around and I know I haven’t moved them. Please don’t ignore me. If you heard my last message, I’m sorry for how I sounded. I’m just frustrated. Please call me. Everyone is worried about you. We can’t figure this out together if I don’t know what I’ve done or you won’t talk to me. I love you.  
End of voicemail

Why she was given the phone was beyond her. Listening to a pathetic concerned lover was her own form of torture perhaps, but what did she ever do to receive it? From what she knew, she had done everything that was asked.

Voicemail sent at 22:11  
You’re gone... I know you are. And I know I’m pissed. Angela pieced it all together a long while back, but how can you tell someone that their fiance is gone? I can understand why she didn’t tell me the first time. We’re both on top of Talon’s list, Gérard and I. They took you to try and break us, right? Heh, they won’t. We’re gonna save you. Talon is gonna regret taking you from me. Will you forgive me? I broke one of our promises we made the day I proposed. I’m sorry, but I love you.  
End of voicemail

She was sitting at a table with a neat yellow folder laid in front of her. It was such an ugly color, not that she could judge anyway. She knew she was turned into a freak. Vulture heterochromia eyes examined her, searching for any sign of emotion. In tiny letters, there was a name printed under the headshot. 

The words of the doctor came out sharp. “Locate and execute the target.”

Voicemail sent at 23:59  
Love, I’m still keeping on my words. I’d rather tell you this in person, but calling you is easier since I have no clue where you are. Recently, we had no leads of where you are or were. Everything just felt like a dead-end till yesterday. This morning I was told that Gérard is dead. By the time he was found, it was too late and he couldn’t be brought back from Angela. Those bastards in Talon finally made their move. We knew it was about him and me, but I was more careless about our safety. Gérard was murdered in his sleep. Who in the hell does that? Dammit! I should’ve cared. I should’ve stayed with him if he was so concerned. This is… My fault. I’m so sorry, Amé. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll bring you home. I won’t stop until it kills me.  
End of voicemail

“Mark my words, it will kill you. By yourself or I.”

‘A fool till the end’ echoed in his mind. As he took his second to last breath of life, he saw a lost soul that wished to be free. The live earthly color of brown had vanished and been replaced with lifeless honey gold. They were glowing in the dark with satisfaction. In the final breath, he managed to utter his wish. She blinked.

Was she crying? Tears that had marked the spot on her brother’s bed and the liquid on her cheeks would suggest she was. Warm satisfaction settled in her bones, contrasting the cold pool of blood around her. Her chest and throat weren’t constricted as one would be after losing a loved one. Instead, it felt like a weight was lifted from it. She wiped whatever remaining liquid and wiped the blood on her shirt. The message was saved to remember.

Voicemail sent at 13:45  
I don’t know why I keep drinking. This stuff is going to kill me as Angela says. I also don’t know any real useful reason as to why I keep paying your phone bill. It’s mostly to hear your voice. It keeps me going. At this point in my life, anything is better than listening to Jack say, “Keep your head in the game.” The bloody wanker called off the missions to come and find you. More scouts are lost than gained, I guess. He rejected my requests to find you. I’ve asked to only search for myself. He dismissed you as dead, just as he did to me during Slipstream! I’ve come to a full circle now, dammit. Unlike him and everyone else, I won’t give up. Winston, Angela and I are coming for you.  
End of voicemail

The funeral was reserved only for Overwatch members Gérard had worked with over the years of his service. Then a memorial was to be scheduled the following week for all the world to witness. In the lost crowd of agents, all of whom were dressed in black attire, there stood two women sharing the same blank stare in the back. One was forced to look down to hide the emotions starting to shine while the other had not given a second thought to the entire show. She found a phone worth more interest than some funeral. Reaper, formerly known as Gabriel Reyes, was watching further in the back. His eyes trained with malice towards Jack Morrison and all other agents. While death ran through his edgy mind, so did a sort of degree of grief to a beloved friend. Yet across the crowd, they could both see the pilot who was tear-stricken. She was digging her nails into her palms and a mix of emotions in her soul. Finally, with her knuckles as white as the clouds above, they could clearly see her whispering another vow to uphold.

“I’ll make all of those damned Talon agents pay.”

Voicemail sent at 19:51  
Ahem... I haven’t given up, love. Just busy… and drinking my sorrows. We lost another brilliant soul. Captain Ana Amari is dead, love. Shot by some sniper none of us saw. There’s some new Talon bloke we have to worry ourselves with. They call themselves Widowmaker. It's a bit much and if I wasn’t so bloody drunk or depressed, I would’ve laughed at the damn name. Instead, I’ve been giving a lot of thought about how quickly life can end. One minute a person is fine, then gone in a second. It was all so quick. Quicker than me, who can manipulate my time. I’m stopping my search for tonight, love. I’m sorry, but I'm just so tired. Then when I sleep, you’re all I can see. As cliche as it sounds, they aren’t good because I know it’s only mere time skips and you aren’t there when I wake up. It’s maddening. I hate it. I wish you were back in my arms. Not only because you chase the nightmares away or that you warmed the bed. I feel lost without you. Angela is worried about me. I think everyone is just frustrated with me in general. I requested antidepressants against her and Zenyatta’s better judgment. It takes away my pain temporarily and I know they won’t work. Nothing is ever working for me. When does the pain stop?  
End of voicemail

The chirpy voice she was so used to hearing was quiet. It was barely above a whisper. She found that she liked it better this way. Lena was not close to breaking down as the other ones had been. Was this the lowest point in her new life? Hopefully. She didn’t know how much more of this torture she could take.

Voicemail sent at 09:13  
These past few calls… You’ve probably been ashamed of me. I know I’m ashamed of myself. Pushing everyone away, binge drinking, or crying myself to sleep. I wouldn’t blame you if you’re disappointed in me. Losing you and Gérard has probably been one of the worst things that have happened to me, after Slipstream. Angela said things will look up for me within time. I really hope she’s right about that. I’m not sure if that can happen. I don’t think she’ll ever feel what I’m feeling. She’s got Fareeha, but she’s trying to heal us both. I told her to focus on Fareeha and that I’d be fine on my own. So far I think it’s been going okay. I haven’t had alcohol this week. I’m afraid to even be at the pub. I think I’ll just head back to King’s Row and collect myself. I love you, Amélie. Don’t forget that.  
End of voicemail

“Amélie is dead. Widowmaker only stands. Widowmaker does not have any connection to Lena “Tracer” Oxton. Agent Tracer is nothing more but an enemy to Talon and must be killed on sight. The world will see that no one is safe within Widowmaker’s sight. Overwatch will fall forever.”

She nodded in approval. The reconditioning was successful. With that being declared, a new mission was given and the voicemail was saved.

Voicemail sent at 22:55  
Someone is watching me. I see them outside my flat. I went to go confront them earlier, but they took off. Now they’re there again. This might finally be Talon’s push on me. It’s not unwelcome or anything. I expected them to target me after everything. I think I’m just going to stay up and see what happens. Whoever it is, I hope they know that I won’t go down without a fight. Maybe they’ll have the guts to actually off me.  
End of voicemail

All night they watched each other for movement. The sniper gradually got closer each time Lena had gone to the bathroom. In the early morning, she was hanging upside-down watching the brunette outside the window. Lena found herself dozing off at times, but the watcher never came in the home when given the opportunity. It was unsettling. The visor glowed red and stood out from the night sky outside then illuminated the purple skin underneath. At sunrise, Lena could only assume they made eye contact before the figure disappeared.

Voicemail sent at 20:08  
Did you know? Did you know that I was in King’s Row? You’ve been tracking me, haven’t you? Haven’t you?! You’ve been listening to these phone calls… But you didn’t come back. You’re with Talon. Were you the one watching me? I bet my pistols you were. I know what you’ve done. Mondatta is dead, as I’m sure you know. I was there, love. I watched you do it. I tried to stop you! Heh, but you've always been better than me. I recognized your voice. I refused to believe it for the longest while that night. I didn’t see much of your face till the very end, and it said it all. Were you happy when the bullet entered him? Were you pleased to see me struggling? Did you still take pleasure in hurting me? Did you stick around to see me cry on her shoulder? Did you memorize the bruises you left? I wish I could hate you… But I can’t. I still love you. Hmph. Love... It’s such a painful word now. Did you use that against me? I don’t think I want to know really.  
End of voicemail

At least she could play with her more often. She saw the battered girl move to sit on her knees. The doctor would be watching over intently. Everyone was keen to catch her breaking. However, she had failed her mission. They wouldn’t be too pleased upon hearing that detail. Agent Tracer was still alive, but a peace leader was gone. Would they send her back for more reconditioning? Someone must’ve seen the way she hesitated and allowed her prey to recall away.

Just before the ship finally closed, she could see a metal door burst open. Then a redhead rushed out to Lena’s side.

Voicemail sent at 00:03  
I’m smashed, Luv! So, her’ I go. Wait, where’s the bloody… Oh, there it is. Anyways, ahem!

When you get older, plainer, saner  
Will you remember all the danger  
We came from?  
Burning like embers, falling, tender  
Longing for the days of no surrender  
Years ago  
And will you know

So smoke ’em if you got ’em  
‘Cause it’s going down  
All I ever wanted was you  
I’ll never get to heaven  
‘Cause I don’t know how

Let’s raise a glass or two  
To all the things I’ve lost on you  
Oh-oh  
Tell me are they lost on you?  
Oh-oh  
Just that you could cut me loose  
Oh-oh  
After everything I’ve lost on you  
Is that lost on you?

Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh  
Oh-oh-oh-oh  
Is that lost on you?  
Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh  
Baby, is that lost on you?  
Is that lost on you?

Wishin’ I could see the machinations  
Understand the toil of expectations  
In your mind  
Hold me like you never lost your patience  
Tell me that you love me more than hate me  
All the time  
And you’re still mine

So smoke ’em if you got ’em  
‘Cause it’s going down  
All I ever wanted was you  
Let’s take a drink of heaven  
This can turn around

Let’s raise a glass or two  
To all the things I’ve lost on you  
Oh-oh  
Tell me are they lost on you?  
Oh-oh  
Just that you could cut me loose  
Oh-oh  
After everything I’ve lost on you  
Is that lost on you?

Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh  
Oh-oh-oh-oh  
Is that lost on you?  
Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh  
Baby, is that lost on you?  
Is that lost on you?

Let’s raise a glass or two  
To all the things I’ve lost on you  
Oh-oh  
Tell me are they lost on you?  
Oh-oh  
Just that you could cut me loose  
Oh-oh  
After everything I’ve lost on you  
Is that lost on you?  
Is that lost on you?

Haha- Oi, Em! Watcha doing? No, stop, this is an important phone call!

Lena, it’s late. Why are you- Oh my goodness. Hello? I’m so sorry for the loud disturbance tonight. Miss Oxton has had a little too much to- Lena, put that down -ahem, a little too much to drink tonight. Lena, have you called anyone else that I have to apologize to?  
End of voicemail

Poor decisions were made that night for Lena Oxton. Such includes drinking too much, against Angela’s order, singing, and playing the electric guitar for all to hear in the middle of the night. Lena would not remember what she’d done, but whoever accompanied her could surely scold her. Crying and comforting words could be heard in the apartment for the rest of the night, and in the morning would be the groans of tired civilians.

With a chuckle, she saved the voicemail.

Voicemail sent at 15:22  
Hi, it’s me. It’s Lena. What do you think our future will become? It gets bleaker the more I think about it. I have some hope, I guess. You told me that hope was for the naive, so I guess I’m naive. I don’t know what we did to deserve this, or if anything could’ve been done to prevent this. We’ll never know though… Amélie, through hardships now and in the future I will stand by your side. Whatever you wished, you would have no matter the consequences. Let me remind you that I told you these words the day I proposed. And I, Lena Oxton, stand by my words. I would never lie to you. I would never keep any secrets from you, no matter how bad it was. I certainly would never dare to try to hurt you. You didn’t say much that night. Hell, you could hardly say that you loved me. Maybe that was because you were in tears with my ring on your finger. But that was it. Nothing else. Do you truly love me the way I have always? You might not even have to answer that. What if I have it from you? Please tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that I wasn’t ever in the wrong for loving you. For once tell me that you love me and that you’re mine from now till forever. That for whatever lies ahead, we’ll never break each other. Tell me that this ring, the exact one I gave you and now in the palm of my hand, wasn’t for nothing. Tell me that this- that I meant something to you. I can’t take this anymore.  
End of voicemail

The injuries on Tracer’s torso had finally recovered since the night where Widowmaker killed Mondatta, but she couldn’t care about those. What could be worse than failure at this point? Despite what the world thinks, that’s all she was now. A heap of failure sitting against this brick wall with another set of fresh dark bruises blossoming on her skin. What would her parents think now? 

Every time they would meet, threats were rolling out of the assassin's mouth. Tracer learned that the Widowmaker, the cold-hearted killer, could never bring herself to go through with said threats. So if Widowmaker wouldn’t, then Angela would certainly kill Lena herself. That could wait though. Maybe, for now, she could finally just let herself rest until it was safe to leave. The thought re-ran by her again, causing her to chuckle to herself as she lowered her head. ‘Nowhere was safe. Not anymore.’

She would’ve drifted off if it weren’t for the weight that plopped down onto her lap. A hand lifted her chin to look up. Worn-out, big, chestnut eyes slowly opened up to see Widowmaker. Tracer’s sworn enemy wearing the face of Lena’s fiance. Twinges of anger pulled at Tracer. How dare she show her face in King’s Row again?  
For that brief moment, neither of them wanted to say anything to each other. Lena stopped the fingers beginning to pull her goggles from her eyes. Would it be any easier to look at her as Lena? She intertwined their hands together. Lena could feel Widowmaker tense at this but she didn’t pull away.

Widowmaker let out an irritated sigh, “I am not her, chérie.” She muttered to herself more than Tracer. “The woman you search for can not be saved. She is gone.”

“You still call me “chérie” Love. I know that Amélie is still there.” Lena countered. She wrapped her only free arm around the small of Widowmaker’s waist and pulled her into a hug. There was another pause as Widowmaker scowled down at her. Lena could feel the glare, it didn’t phase Tracer, and she continued. “Let us help you. If Amélie is gone then you  
can start over again. You can be your own person.”

Widowmaker cupped Tracer’s cheeks with two hands. “I don’t want to end this.” The tips of Widowmaker’s covered fingers lingered in the messy locks of Tracer’s. There was a kiss lightly pressed into Tracer’s cheek then they moved to her ears. “Abandonnez avant de vous faire tuer.”

Tracer had let her guard down.

In stories, the morning was supposed to be the start of new beginnings. Some might even say that there were new opportunities to discover. Well, it was morning. The sun was already up high in the sky, but nowhere to be seen due to the clouds. Lena laid on the sofa. Talk about new beginnings. She’d been in a fetal position with a blanket draped over her for nearly thirty minutes. The instinct to change position was finally eating away at her patience as she huffed. Her legs stretched to the top of the armrest, where her feet kicked the remote off. The channel had switched from the news to cartoons. No matter. The damn Omnic Crisis wasn’t going anywhere.

A door in the flat opened with a creak, followed by light footsteps and fabric rubbing against fabric. Lena didn’t look up and continued to stare blankly at the cartoons. She tugged on the blanket, trying to take in the warmth, but it didn’t fill the oncoming loneliness in her. Just behind her, she could hear the quietest scoff. “You do need better shampoo and conditioner. Green apple scents do not appeal to my standards.”

Lena bit down harshly on the inside of her cheek to keep from rebutting. It wasn’t right. None of this was right. She wasn’t expecting this when Widowmaker finally decided to indulge Lena. She hoped that Widowmaker would at least remember something of Amélie’s life. Would anything help Widowmaker? She wanted Amélie back. Wanted. Lena accepted that Amélie might be gone forever, that Lena couldn’t save her. Now it was up to Tracer to save a broken soul from Talon.

Widowmaker had received no answer from the girl. There was a frown threatening to form across her lips. She was almost offended that Lena was ignoring her. Where was the chirpy Overwatch that had an answer for everything? Lena sluggishly rose up from the sofa and shuffled past her without so much as a glance. She didn't even see the usual light glistening in her eyes. Who was she? Amélie had never got this treatment. At least, she couldn't remember it. While tying her hair up, she followed the smaller woman towards the kitchen. There were little to no changes to the kitchen as a whole, but her eyes quickly fell onto the refrigerator. The copious amount of pictures of Lena and Amélie together were lessened to just a couple with an addition.

There was a knock at the front door that made both women freeze.

“It seems that our time together was cut short, ma chérie.” Widowmaker looked back at Lena, who looked alive, more than she had been seconds ago. The corner of her eye twitched as she leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. Her lips never reached skin as Lena was already on her way out of the kitchen. “Je t’aime.”

The assassin retreated into the bedroom to collect her rifle and visor. Down the hall, she could hear the laughter of two.

Jewelry wasn’t ever a main priority to Lena. She never cared to wear it after missions. The only jewelry she ever wore was the helix earrings. Then she met Amélie. Lena never actually wore the ring on her finger because it wouldn’t fit when her hand was inside her glove. She opted to wear the ring on a silver necklace. Now Amélie’s resided on it waiting for its owner to be back. She always kept it hidden under her jacket. 

Seeing and feeling the rings had gotten easier for Tracer. Everything was slowly getting better. Drunk nights alone had stopped, along with crying. She had her phone in her pocket, and she’d look down at it occasionally. Lena hadn’t left a voicemail for Amélie’s phone in weeks. On missions, both parties kept the exchanges safe and quick. Then at nights, where Tracer and Widowmaker spent, was a different story. Lena felt that she could start breathing around others, whereas Tracer was drowning with Widowmaker. With that, she concluded that she was getting better.

Lena looked out a side window to see the glowing heads of Talon agents in the distance. She hastily dug in the jacket pocket. Lena fished out the phone and a pair of keys to her flat. She wanted to get home as quickly as possible, preferably in one piece. In the mirror, her eyes glazed over the mop of hair to her clothing. Everything looked perfect. Two hands lifted the tinted goggles to fit over her eyes.

“I love you.”

Widowmaker’s chest stopped mid-rise. “You don’t. Don’t tell me that ever again.”

Tracer rolled to lay on her belly and held her head up with a hand to look at Widowmaker. “Don’t you dare tell me what I feel, Widow. It’s true when I say I love you.” The fight below them was growing to an end, and so was their time together. As much as her body wanted it, Tracer decided against pulling Widowmaker into a kiss. At least she could speak out about her feelings.

Before Tracer could get up, her head was pulled and held back by metal. She’d forgotten to take the necklace off. In her right ear, she could hear Widowmaker force out a laugh. “It is adorable to watch you fall over for me, the Widowmaker. Is it my face? Do you see her in me? This necklace I am holding you by is dear to you, is it not? Do not lie to me with those words while you still hold onto her.”

The chain grew tighter and dug into her throat. Tracer choked out fits of coughs and words, trying to beg Widowmaker to let go. Instead, a hand covered over her mouth accompanied with hushing.

“She is gone, chérie. La femme you know is never coming back. Be a good girl for once and let her go.”

Voicemail sent at 18:09  
This is the last I’m making of these. I wish I could say more, but I really can’t. You don’t want to be saved. I know that now. I’m going away though. I need to start over. So if you listen to this, then this is my last goodbye. A new story won’t start, Widowmaker. But ours ends here, Amélie. Gérard would be ashamed of me. I’ll always love you and him. As Lena “Tracer” Oxton, I’m saying goodbye to Amélie “Widowmaker” Lacroix.  
End of voicemail

Sombra had called Widowmaker to come to her room. On a desk, there lay two phones, a pile of papers, and a necklace. Widowmaker had only recognized the jewelry she’d used against Tracer. Why was it there in the base? The Mexican cleared her throat, gaining the Frenchwoman’s attention, and presented her with the papers.

“You had a lot of phone calls, araña. Don’t worry. I took your messages down.” Widowmaker sat on the bed and read through the papers. She could hear the smile in Sombra’s voice as she knelt in front of her with the rest of the items. “Your used-to-be-fiance was quite annoying to listen to. These phones were your’s and hers. I was given one, but I took the other. As for this necklace, I found it on the floor. Miss Oxton is quite easy to manipulate, no?”

There was silence. Sombra saw Widowmaker’s hold tighten and crinkle the last page. The hand noticeably shook as Widowmaker dared not to show her face. “What have you done?”

“You and her have done this. I’ve only been monitoring. Maybe.”

She thinks Angela was right, but she thinks Widowmaker was too. She had to let go, and things would be better. There are nights, much like this one, where Lena feels that it was a wrong- One of the worst decisions she had made in her life. She doubts whether she truly let go or not. 

At that moment, two arms wrap around her and never let go. In the dead of night, she hears that everything is alright. She looks out the window to the sleeping world. Across the rooftops, a few blocks away, an empty rifle lowered to the pavement underneath her. Her visor removed itself from her vision. She likes to think that Lena closed her eyes as well to listen to her whisper.

“Save me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm missing tags, please tell me.


End file.
